


Un jour

by SharLMAO



Series: Les petits coureurs [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula 2 RPF
Genre: Bad Parenting, Character Death, Difficult Decisions, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Post-Divorce, Pre-Canon, Runaway, Sad, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharLMAO/pseuds/SharLMAO
Summary: Dani once said: "We are all here with stupidity and backstory".It's about the day from previous life of the boys. The day that changed everything and brought them to the institution.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Pierre Gasly & Anthoine Hubert
Series: Les petits coureurs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066859
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Pierre : Première partie

**Author's Note:**

> Un jour means one day in french. I really like using french for titles. First half of Pierre's story is from his point of view, the other one is what really happened. Something what is still a mystery for him

The boy awoke early in the morning to the sound of his alarm clock on the bedside table. Pierre stretched lazily to rid himself of the unpleasant sound that was cutting into his ears. It rang earlier than usual because today was an important day for Pierre, apart from the fact that it was the last day of summer. It had been a long time since he had heard the sound of an alarm clock at all. Pierre made up his mind that he had to get out of the house early. Gasly threw off the covers and yawned sweetly as he stretched out the length of his bed. The blue walls of his room were already turning purple with the morning dawn. Photographs with cheerful faces of family and friends and posters of some motivational moto or just from a movie were staring back at him from the walls, the room itself was in a light cosy mess, telling everyone that a boy called Pierre Gasly lived here. A lover of photography, adventure, skiing, good movies, believes in a happy future, and just a good guy. The sleepy boy in his pants and T-shirt quietly opened the door of his room and slowly walked to the bathroom to tidy himself up and chase away the last remnants of sleep that made his eyelids unwillingly close. He showered, brushed his teeth and saw his reflection in the mirror. Gasly shook his head, shaking the excess drips from his hair. Back in his room, he looked out the window. It was going to be a good day. Finally he finished drying his unruly hair and instead of arranging it, he quickly got dressed. He put on a large black jumper with a star on the chest, black tight jeans with fake scuffs. The boy began quickly stuffing something into the school backpack, all together textbooks, camera, house keys, phone charger. The most ordinary pupil's backpack. 

Gasly tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, dreading the creaking floorboards. His stomach twisted unpleasantly with hunger and his mother was not yet awake to make him breakfast. Pierre dropped his rucksack and at the exit of the house and made his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and tried to think of what he could do with his skills, the choice fell on a plain omelette with onions, sausage and tomatoes. The boy chopped up the extra ingredients first, heating up the frying pan and it was a matter of doing little else. Crack the eggs. He remembered to do it gently and lightly hit the edge of the frying pan as his mother did. Pierre sighed and accidentally hit it with all his might, smearing it all in a mixture of egg white, yolk and eggshells. The lad wanted to cover his face with his hand, but remembered it was messed up. Pierre's mother appeared in the doorway, smiling at her confused son who had no idea what to do next. She was dressed in plaid black and white trousers, a purple T-shirt and a yellow mohair dressing gown that didn't really go together. Pierre's mother slowly walked over to her son and kissed the boy on the cheek and looked at the mess in the kitchen. 

"Why are we up so early?" Gasly grinned awkwardly as he tried to hug his mother but then he remembered he had an egg on his hand again, "Where are you going so early? It's obviously not about school." 

"Do you remember what day it is?" The woman glanced at the calendar and her gaze grew sad. She looked at her boy again with tears in her eyes. Pierre wiped his nose, himself barely restraining himself from crying, "I...thought I would go out early to visit...Anthoine, so as not to disturb you." 

"Baby, come here..." Gasly bowed his head and rested his nose on his mother's shoulder, who hugged him tightly, kissing the boy on the forehead. They swayed slightly from side to side. It was like a mother lulling her child," I know you miss him, so do I. He was such a good boy. You used to sit so cute in your room. Making those funny huts out of blankets and pillows. Sleepovers, trips, your funny electronic car races. I miss that. Do you want me to make us some breakfast?"

"I'll probably go like this, I've arranged to meet Pierre at the school after I visit Antoine and go for a little walk from there," the last day of summer he would like to spend with his friend, whose name was the same as his, "I bought flowers by the way, they are in my room and printed out some old photos of us so he can remember how good we were." 

"There's no need for you to be in such a hurry, sunshine. Let me make us some breakfast and give you a lift where you need to go. Dad doesn't have to work soon, so we have time," the lad nodded, and Mum took his place at the cooker while he decided to wash his hand. 

They sat quietly together at the table. His mother worked in a flower shop in a shopping centre and his father was an ordinary accountant. They had five children, but only two were born into their marriage. The boys had long since grown up and lived their lives in different parts of France, some already with their own families. Pierre was the youngest of them all and lived with his parents, because that was what a fourteen-year-old boy was supposed to do. His mother was telling him about her plans for the day and asked if she would pick him up after walking with a friend. Gasly, of course, agreed to that suggestion. They decided that Mum would pick him up at school. About three o'clock, when his mother would have a break at work.

When they had eaten breakfast, Pierre ran upstairs to get flowers. His mother had already started the car; she had not changed and was in her dressing gown and pyjamas. The boy got into the front seat and fastened his belt. They drove and remembered all the happy days when the boy from the next street came to their house and told them his crazy plans for life. He was ambitious, kind and most homely. The graveyard was not far, they reached it in fifteen minutes. The boy and his mother got out of the car and walked along the graves to one particular one. They stood by the tombstone on which the name was written. Anthoine Hubert. Sometimes Pierre blamed himself for Anthoine's death because he had been hit by a car when he was on his way to visit him again, Pierre was then lying down with a broken leg after a bad bicycle ride. But, on the other hand, the car ran a red light. The boy died at the spot. Pierre could not get the grey body of the boy in the wooden box out of his mind that was strewn with flowers all around. How Anthoine's parents were crying, how he stammered as he spoke. He was no longer in touch with his parents. It seems they had moved away. Not because they blamed Gasly for their boy's death, but because it hurt them to look at him. He reminded them of their precious baby Anthoine, the way he played with him. Gasly placed flowers at the tombstone and neatly pinned photos he had taken on his tape camera next to it. The boy squatted down beside it and rested his forehead against the cold stone. Tears ran down his cheeks on their own. 

"Hello, Anthoine. It's me. Pierre and my mama are here with me," the woman was watching sadly, "I'm doing well. I brought you some flowers and some old photos of us. I'm going out with Pierre today. It would be cool if we all went together," he sighed heavily and let out a loud sob, "I really need you. I miss you so much," the woman came up from behind and hugged the boy tightly. She stroked him gently on the back and cried bitterly herself. 

"I'm so very sorry, I'm so sorry, baby, come on. Let's go, sunshine," the boy got up from his place and slowly walked with his mother to the car. She did not move, giving Pierre time to cry. After they drove to the school. In silence. The boy rested his forehead against the glass, and his head was so empty... 

***

The boy stood outside the school waiting for his mother's car, which was about fifteen minutes late. He had called her twice already. Ten minutes ago she had told him that she was running a little delayed and that he was in expectation of a surprise. Pierre was in suspense about something, though he himself did not understand what that surprise from his mother could be. However, time passed, an hour had already passed and the second hour was beginning. He called his mother again and again, there were ringing tones, but she did not answer. Then he called his father to see if everything was all right, but it was the same. He heard beeping noises, but no answer. The lad got a little frustrated and decided to call his older brother Paul. He was his blood brother and also lived in Rouen. There were ringing tones and an annoyed voice answered on the other end. 

"Yes, Pierre? Something urgent? I'm a little busy at work," the guy on the line was clearly not in the mood to listen to his little brother, who was somehow taken aback by the unexpected statement. 

"Paul, do you know by any chance where Ma or Pa is? I can't reach them. Ma promised to pick me up an hour ago," there was a heavy, irritated sigh. Pierre understood that Paul was not very happy with their conversation. 

"Pierre, you know that I don't talk to them that often, if they didn't come it means that something must have come up for work, you are not a little boy anymore go home yourself," the boy wanted to object, but Paul dropped the call. The boy cursed and walked home. Not that he had very long to walk. Forty minutes, but he liked to walk from home to school, Rouen was a beautiful city, but right now he was in a bad spirits. He felt abandoned, but at the same time, somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped that the surprise was waiting for him at home and that his parents were just playing an unfunny joke on him. He would talk to them about that later. 

He walked on, kicking invisible stones in the road. The autumn chill was setting in and it was slowly starting to get darker as the time drew nearer to six o'clock. Parents were usually home by seven. Mama certainly was, and my pa would sometimes be at work late. They had one car for two and they would decide who was picking who up. They had something like a schedule. Pierre saw the roof of his house and ran cheerfully, expecting to see his parents there. The car was not at the house and the lights were not on. Hope was still smouldering in the soul, but when Pierre opened the house with his key, no one greeted him with joyful shouts of ' _surprise_ '. 

"Mama? Papa?" There was only a ringing silence in response. Pierre felt a little uncomfortable. He went upstairs and changed into his home clothes. It was starting to get slowly dark outside and the sky was getting cloudy, it looked like rain was expected during the night. It was already half past eight on the clock and still no sign of his parents. He looked out of his window into the street expecting to see a familiar car. He was very scared. Without thinking much, Pierre picked up the phone again and decided to call his mother and father. This time there was not even a dial tone. Everything twisted inside. He decided to call Paul again, hoping that he would be more cooperative here after work.

"Paul, listen. Parents are usually home by this time. I still can't get through to them. Paul, I'm scared." 

"Pierre, don't be like a baby," his brother sounded anxious and in the background he heard a baby crying. There seemed to be some chaos at his brother's house, "maybe someone called them for a visit and they were just tired of a pain in the ass like you."

  
"Paul, this is no joke! I don't know where the parents are!?" Gasly junior's voice began to settle with emotion. All he could hear on the end of the line was his brother's heavy, tired sigh. 

"Pierre.Ugh. You'll spend the evening alone, whatever. Order yourself a pizza and watch a movie. You can wait for them in the living room in front of the TV, even though Mama doesn't like it. Tell her I said it was okay, and now I'm sorry, I've got things to do. We'll talk later," he hung up again. Pierre wanted to cry. Why did he say they wanted a break from him. Why hadn't they warned him that they had gone away to visit? Was this what his mother's surprise was all about? To leave him alone because they were fed up with him? 

Pierre took his teddy panda and a blanket from his room. He went downstairs and turned on the television, making himself comfortable on the sofa, from which he had removed the cloak. His mother always liked to have the sofa covered because she didn't like picking up crumbs from it after biscuits or sandwiches. Gasly ordered a small pizza on his little pocket money. Even the delivery arrived quicker than his parents. He watched the French film 'Les choristes' and felt like one of those abandoned children. Slowly he fell asleep, but he felt that no one had come home. The blanket had fallen off him and no one had come to make it right. No one kissed his forehead or stroked his soft, unruly hair. No parents came back. Only loneliness and crazy raindrops on the glass.

In the morning the doorbell rang. Pierre heard it immediately, as if he hadn't slept at all. He smiled, expecting to open the door and his mother and father would be there. He ran down the corridor, almost tripping over the long carpet. He started to turn the key quickly, but his hands were unresponsive and his eyes were filled with tears. He opened the door sharply, but it wasn't his parents standing in front of him. It was his brother. He was gloomy. Tired. The smile slid off Gasly's face. The brother didn't say he was coming to visit during the week. Paul walked into the house. A little drenched. 

"I spoke to our parents. They said they were in a very urgent situation and were out of town for an undetermined period. They said to look after you," Pierre's thoughts raced through his head. What business could they possibly have outside the city. I can't leave you here alone but I can't take you in either. I have my hands full at the moment, I can hardly make ends meet. That's why I have to put you in an orphanage or a boarding school. 

"Have parents told you when they will be back?" The boy asked hopefully, but he did not see the same hope in his brother's eyes. He had realized that something had happened, but the brother stubbornly refused to tell him. 

"I am sorry they did not give me any exact instructions. I've already got a place for you, so get ready and we'll leave in about two hours. You can give me your key. I'll talk to your school and tell them you're transferring," Pierre seemed to be collapsing inside. He wasn't himself. It was as if a ghost had gone up to his room and started to collect his things. He couldn't feel his body, he was just picking up what he thought was necessary. It was as if he had stopped living. Just existing. 

Pierre sat in the front seat of his brother's car, fastening his belt. He watched the droplets smash against the windshield and couldn't believe it was all happening to him. The car pulled off and the house began to move away. Pierre felt devastated, as if his soul had remained in that house. 

He felt as if he would never see the house again. He felt as if... he would never see his parents again. 


	2. Nicholas : Première partie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one day of Nico. The day of the Nico's escape. Actually it is his third one. But this one is different.
> 
> Songs for inspiration:  
> Daughter - Run  
> Jamala - Натовп

**Vögel haben so viel Glück, dass sie immer wegfliegen können.**

**Birds are so lucky that they can always fly away.**

  
The boy was seated at a long oak table with beautiful metal patterned legs, with a row of chairs next to each other in a large bright dining room with a high ceiling all finished with patterned stucco as a kind of mix of antiquity and minimalism. A family painting and a long sofa, which had the same kind of padding as the chairs on the right, looked out from the mirror at the guy on the right. Across from it were three large windows, which were covered by almost weightless curtains, flanked by tight baldachins that were only closed at night. They gave a view of the endless tangled gardens, which flowed smoothly into the forest. On the table was a vase with a lush bouquet of fresh white roses that had been picked straight from the garden. A large tiered chandelier with imitation candlesticks hung over their heads. Patina could be seen in places in the curves of the ornaments on the walls, everything was decorated, to put it mildly, in a large scale and screamed of the wealth of the family that lived in the huge family estate... The dining room was very quiet, the only thing that broke the silence was the tapping of gold-plated cutlery on the plates. A two-course breakfast in the finest tradition of aristocratic houses, with a valet and footmen.It was as if the whole thing had been taken from the Downton Abbey series. At the table besides sat a stately man in a house silk dressing gown, made in Chinese patterns, holding a newspaper, as if he had forgotten that there was anyone else at the table besides her. Was anyone else reading the newspaper? a woman, in a light lemon-coloured dress that emphasised the woman's figure, although she was already in her late teens and had two children. Next to her was a girl who was a little younger than the boy, who did not know what to do apart from eating, and they made faces at each other every now and then. Every meal in the Hülkenberg family was so dull. Without exception. Even little Stephanie's banal grimaces were a relief. Nico never understood why this etiquette, like an unnecessary rudiment, was kept within the walls of this house. Like, for example, the tradition that everyone has to be a doctor here, because everyone who bears the surname Hülkenberg in this family is obliged to become a great Doctor and pass it on, that is, it did not apply to Steph. That's not fair, in Nicholas' humble opinion. For example, a good match would be found for her and she would be successfully married off. It sounded so absurd and silly it made me want to clear my stomach. Where had all this conservatism come from? And why was his mother so supportive? Nico had never understood that in their family. Why everything was done at his father's behest, because if it wasn't for her, everything here would have died without her, yet opinions here didn't take her into account, so Nicholas was angry with her. The boy was angry at everyone here except his little sister. It wasn't her fault, she was just a little girl.

It was seven thirty on the clock. Nicholas and Stephanie had to bow out to get ready for school, one of those schools the rich kids drove to. The parents were left alone and immediately some sort of dialogue began behind the children's backs that no longer reached the children's ears. A blonde-haired boy ran into his room. The walls were pasted with dark saloon wallpaper and the furniture was made of dark wood. A gilt desk, a chair with lettuce trim, two large wardrobes with mirrors reflecting two large windows with the curtains up, a bed a little further away, with the canopies down, which the boy was too lazy to lift. He just wanted to lie down in his corner and forget himself. Nicholas hadn't brought his usual leather briefcase today, but a larger bag. The boy lived near Emmerich on the Rhine and intended to make another very audacious move today. Today he would leave for Berlin.

This was not his first foray. His furthest points of arrival yet were Dortmund and his personal pride Hannover. He wanted to break out. He wanted to be free, he wanted to stop hearing that stiff Nicholas, he wanted to be a poet, because he was a romantic, he saw beauty in every little thing, his soul demanded freedom. And even in his own life situation he saw a terrifying beauty. He is a bird in a golden cage. The boy put on his school uniform, as befits such an institution it is the usual dark coloured jacket and trousers, jumper, shirt, nothing new. The boy checked his backpack. He had packed it since evening, which should provide him with food for a fortnight, he sincerely hoped so. The backpack was very heavy. When he lifted it on his back, his legs buckled for a second, but he tried not to show it. He straightened up and slowly decided to leave his room. He opened the large carved door with the initials NH on it and took a full breath. He was sure that luck would smile on him this time

No one said anything to him about the packed rucksack. The driver who transported Niko and Stephanie and his sister every day didn't care, he was doing his sister's bidding. Steph herself knew everything, but she wasn't going to give her brother away, she sincerely wanted Nico to do well. They sat and looked each out their own window, firmly, holding hands. How worried the boy was right now. What if something would go wrong. He was running the plan around in his head, everything was going to work like a Swiss watch. He was so sure of it. The children got out of the car and walked slowly forward towards the school, where other expensive cars were gathered, where the same rich kids in their parents' expensive cars were gathered.

"Are you straight sure you want to do this," the girl with the long blonde braid and the bag over her shoulder walked foot to foot next to her older brother with a frown on her face, "I'm not sure dad would stand for this kind of act a third time," she didn't look at Nicholas, not looking around but looking under her feet so no one would see her worried face, "remember he said he'd send you somewhere and you're the only person in our house I can talk to for a little while.

"'At least you're allowed to do the things you love,' the lad parried, this stung little Steph. She didn't like those glimpses of prim egotism in her brother, which was quite typical in their family, "and I can't even breathe without a schedule," in a way she understood him, her fate was also preordained without her knowledge. That bad taste of golden aristocracy and mouldy old traditions is in every family with money and preserved history, "sick of all these cell structures and chemical formulas. In the future I will only be able to do forensic examinations successfully, at least the corpses won't moan or be able to hear me whine about this horrible mortal world."

" Awful. If you do become a doctor, I'm going to have to go the third way around you," the girl in the dark long dark skirt shoved her brother carelessly in the side, making him barely stay on his feet, but Nicholas, still managed to keep his feet up and shoved the blonde back, "or I'll get you a clientele of my enemies," Stephanie laughed evilly.

" Oh, you're pretty sneaky," Hülkenberg remarked with a smirk, staring in surprise as the boy stated that he hadn't noticed such a thing about the cute little Steph. It was unexpected, though not. Expected. A distinctive trait. Sarcasm as a special art of communication.

"Learned from the best," brother and sister met their gazes. It was just the two of them against the world. They didn't need anyone else. Stephanie and Nicholas were the only ones lighting the way for each other. They felt so good with each other, she was the anchor that kept him at home. She was the boundary line he was going to cross again towards freedom.

"Is that a accusation or a compliment?" Nicholas grinned. The girl blushed. In fact she had a lot to say there. She was afraid that if Niko succeeded, she would never see her brother again, that she would be alone. She was afraid that if he didn't succeed, he wouldn't see his brother either, because he would be taken away from her. It was all so complicated.

"It's up to you," she replied briefly, rubbing her brother's mussed hair, though she was bursting with emotion inside. The boys entered the school building," Okay... Good luck," they hugged each other and began to disperse to wherever anyone needed to go. Steph stopped for a second and shouted into her brother's back, "Nico... Be careful!"

"I'll try very hard!" Shouted Nico back to her...

***

The boy stood at the pedestrian crossing wearing a beige coat, dark trousers and a black turtleneck, with a heavy bag on his back and a rubbish bag in his hands. No one was looking at him, and he didn't look around either, though his heart was beating like mad inside him. Hülkenberg had just reached Berlin. He ran away from school during lunchtime, lying that he had a doctor's appointment, providing a false note a fake letter from his parents. He took the train from Emmerich, changed trains in Dortmund so that he could not be traced in any way, did the same in Hannover and was in Berlin towards evening. The evening lights were already on, a nasty drizzle was dripping. What time it was he was not quite aware of, because he had turned his phone off. He was so afraid to look at its screen. He was scared of being tracked by it. When the green light came on he and the crowds went forward. He discreetly threw away the rubbish bag containing his school uniform, which he had changed on the train. The boy was looking for the nearest ATM to cash in his father's card. He had been preparing for this escape for a long time. Figured out all the codes and all the nuances. He was even amused that some of his mother's and father's passwords were his or Stephanie's birthdays. Most likely they had already started looking for him as soon as he left school. Perhaps they were already looking for him in the cities he had been to, but the point was that he had bought tickets at railway stations with the money he had saved up, so they could not track him down there. 

Now he would give out his location through an ATM, so it was urgent that he run away afterwards and find somewhere to sleep for the night. He was preoccupied with this question too. He had talked it over in advance with a guy on the internet who was willing to give him a room for free for a couple of days until he could decide what to do next.

The place was quite far from the ATM he had just found. The boy withdrew the money and looked at his watch, measuring a rough estimate of how quickly he would be found in this particular area. No matter how bad his parents' relationship was, in his opinion, they still loved him and would not be stingy with the means to find him. He had realised this from the previous two attempts. So he did the work of making mistakes, although wandering and hiding was not something he wanted to do either. However, that was the reality at the moment. Suddenly, as in some cinematic cliché, his attention was drawn to the flashing silver TV screens on the other side of the shop windows. There was a report of a missing child and there was a picture of him. People walked by and froze at the screens as well, but some passed by and others started staring at him. This made Nicholas uncomfortable. He began to have an unpleasant feeling of paranoia, especially when he saw someone talking on the phone. The boy snapped out of his seat. He didn't want to stay in public. It seemed to him that all eyes were turned towards him. He was pounding, he thought he saw his father in the crowd, or his mother, he seemed to be slowly losing his mind. Nicholas kept glancing at the map of the city he had bought at one of the souvenir shops, as he was afraid to use the phone and checked the piece of paper on which the address was written.

The further away he got from the centre, the fewer people there were. Anxiety receded a little. His coat beat in the wind and finally he found the house with the number he wanted and approached the right entrance. He did not hesitate for a second and immediately walked over and dialed the number on the intercom. It was a small multi-storey house, overgrown with vines, which were still green and gave the house a kind of romantic look. The boy thought to himself that he would like to live in such a house. Suddenly there was a beeping sound, announcing that the door had opened. The boy pulled the handle and entered the entryway. Hulkenberg made his way up to the top fifth floor, where two men were already greeting him. A tall man with short dark blond hair that curled amusingly, thin eyebrows, a cheerful smile of white teeth and bright eyes that shone cheerfully beneath his frown. He had a protruding sharp chin and a thin straight nose with a slight hook, and overall he made a pleasant impression. He stood with his hands hidden in the pockets of his home trousers and leaning against the door.Standing beside him in the same pose was a small lad with blond hair and something remotely resembling an older man.  
Standing beside him in the same pose was a small child with blond hair and something remotely resembling an older man.

  
"I am Michael Schumacher," the man pointed at himself, "This is my son Mick," he patted the boy on the head, which made him grudgingly frown, and you are right..." the man pointed a finger at Nicholas. The boy was not confused and immediately blurted out confidently.

"Niko Hulk," it sounded as silly as possible, but he didn't make a big deal about it, he just didn't want any association with his family. He was a completely different person now. Far from Nicholas Hulkenberg, the only thing that connected him to him now was thinking about how his sister was and how close he was to finding him," we'd called the other day," the kid smiled awkwardly.

" Nice surname," the man grinned, and with him his boy. They looked at each other. Somewhere inside Nico felt a tingle in his heart. He could even imagine a similar situation with his father. He only remembered the endless reproaches from him, " Hey kid, come on in, it's rude to talk on the doorstep and you look tired," at last all three of them entered the flat. 

The first thing that greeted him in the flat was a high ceiling and a very long corridor, covered with old parquet and dark wooden doors. There were jackets hanging in the hallway, a key holder, and a stand full of shoes. Nico hung his coat on a loose hook and removed his once polished boots, which had lost their shine in the city dust. He put his rucksack back on and followed his two 'tour guides'. There's the bathroom. There's the master bedroom. They walked through the kitchen and out into the dining room, which looked more like a children's room, littered with toys, there was a children's toy track on the table. To the right was a doorway, above which was a staircase that seemed to lead to the first floor, which was under the roof itself. There was a television set running in the room next to the dining room and there was obviously someone there. "Don't mind that brat," Michael blurted out suddenly, "that's Ralph. My brother. He's staying with us temporarily while my wife and eldest daughter visit her parents," he said bitterly, lowering his eyes as if he was pressing himself on a sore spot.

"Hello," came from the room, and Michael immediately hurried to close the door. Not to see or hear his little brother again. Not that he was ashamed of him, but there was still an ounce of doubt in his company. Michael offered to sit down, in seats where the table wasn't occupied by the racetrack. Nico finally took off his backpack and set it down next to the chair. Across from him sat a boy, who was looking at Nico intently. It made him feel kind of awkward.

"Where did you come from. No English Dandy, except German," Schumacher sat down in the centre chair like the head of the house. He radiated a kind of crazy positive energy that made the Hulk feel extremely mixed. He was embarrassed and felt somehow safe at the same time.

"From Dortmund," Nico was convinced he had said that for sure. However, it didn't really convince the man, but he didn't question it for some reason. It was as if he knew something, but didn't bother to get to the truth.

"It's a long way off. Would you like some tea? "Michael got up and headed for the kitchen, "something a little stronger, perhaps? " shouted the man already from the kitchen. The lad flushed a little, scratching the back of his head. The offer was certainly tempting, but not age-appropriate. There was a sizzling sound of the kettle.

"Tea's fine, thank you," there was silence in the room, broken by some German chatter in the next room, to which no one paid any attention. Mick and Nico began to play peek-a-boo. The boy seemed to be staring into his very soul. Suddenly he turned his head towards the toy track, asking a mute question. They looked at each other again. Hülkenberg nodded and then they both moved a little closer and took hold of the joysticks of the cars at the start. The cars were off the ground. Mick's car was red and Hulk's was yellow. They moved with a funny sound and for the first time, Nico was doing well. He was overtaking the lad. Michael stood in the aisle with a bottle of beer in his hands and quietly watched what was going on.

" Are you travelling? " Suddenly the man asked, at this point Nico's car went out on a corner, but he didn't get upset, but humbly folded his joystick, thinking through what to answer, in fact, this was the journey, wasn't it? I mean he wouldn't be camping out again like Pinocchio, who can't hide the fact that he's lying.

" Sort of," the Hulk grinned. A politically correct name for his escape. How long it would last he did not know. He rejoiced every minute he could get away from home and at the same time his heart bled that all the bumps were probably now flying on his poor sister's poor head. One day he would take her away and they would be happy.

" And what's the next stop? " Hulk had a vague idea of his future, simply because he didn't believe himself that he had one. He believed in the plan, he knew it would work, but something inside was telling him that his happiness wouldn't last. The boy shrugged his shoulders. He didn't look that far ahead and told it like it was.

" A steady job? " Niko threw up his hands, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. The boy found it funny and burst into laughter, Michael smiled too, but there was no mockery or rebuke in his smile as if he had suggested the idea to his father. Her father would have said 'here's graduation' roll on all four sides, only all those four sides would involve being a doctor... so it's a trap...

" A serious statement," Schumacher senior started nodding his head approvingly, followed by Schumacher junior like a mockingbird. It was an amusing picture. In the kitchen, the kettle stopped making a noise. And Michael had to leave Mick and Nico again for a second to return with two cups of tea, - And who do you see yourself as? - The man immediately returned to the conversation,

" Unfortunately no one of substance," the boy admitted honestly, he really wanted to pour out his soul, he was so tired of living in his home where his only friend was his sister, who was also a prisoner of circumstances, and at school many were willing to put up with the conditions in which they were born, "parents see me as a doctor, and I, unfortunately, see myself as a poet. You can't go far and fast on that.

" Well wielding a word isn't bad either," thought the men, looking somewhere in nowhere and then back at the boy, who glowed like a Christmas tree garland, he never got direct support in his favourite pastime, "you can conquer countries with it too. Read something. Or try a sketch, so to speak, to gauge your skill. Mick and I are great critics," the boy took out a notebook and pen from his briefcase, tearing out a page. Didn't have a couple of ideas now, which he quickly sketched out into two four-liners.

_Birds aren't looking for cages_  
_Birds are not seeking love_  
_They desire a freedom_  
_They don't need a proper house_

_I'm a freewheeling bird in my spirit_  
_I feel these wings in my spine_  
_But how can I spread them freely?_  
_How to be true when you're not yourself_

"Verdict, seven and a half. I can feel you in it, even probably eight, but here... something prevents me from putting it higher, the dreams don't sound coherent, the rhyme sometimes not so good. But all in all, well done. Good," Nico wanted to cry with happiness, but he was afraid his tears would give away just how sad he was. The boy sipped his hot tea gently and talked a little about his life avoiding the details that might give him away. Then sleep came over him. He began to stretch and yawn, he remembered the long journey he had made today.

  
"Not to be rude, but I'm very tired after the trip, could you show me to my room," the boy immediately jumped up from his seat and took Nicholas by the hand, pulling him up the stairs. Michael, on the other hand, took the boy's backpack. There were two rooms upstairs. One was Mick's bedroom and the other was vacant. It used to be Michael and Ralph's bedrooms, and the whole flat belonged to their parents, but now Michael and his family. The room he was assigned to wasn't very big, but he wasn't complaining either. The boy did not take a shower. He said goodbye to his hosts, stripped down to his underwear and got into bed. It was the softest bed he had ever had in his life, how good it felt, except that he couldn't sleep a wink. He could hear Mick being put to bed in the next room, how many kind words his father had said to him. He couldn't remember such bright moments in his life.

Nico cried. He didn't do that very often. In a family like his, emotion was a luxury that was trivially forbidden. He tried to do it quietly and was interrupted by his 'lachrymose', the conversation below. As it turned out the noise insulation between floors here was rubbish. Nico moved closer to the door to his guest room, which was not fully open, and gently began to open it to hear the conversation. Because he definitely thought he heard his name. When he opened the door, he saw sitting on the steps just below Mick, who was also eavesdropping on his father and uncle's conversation.

" ...I'm telling you it's that runaway boy. Don't you seriously get it?" Loudly indignant Ralph, " Nico Hulk and Nicholas Hülkenberg, " the lad sat down next to Schumacher Junior, who had a very serious face. He took Niko's hand and he felt so warm. He reminded him Steph, "We have to turn him over to the police right away," everything inside went cold, but the boy didn't budge.

"I'm not going to turn him in to the police. It says here he's missing, as soon as I shut the door he started crying into the pillow," the boy's head rested on Hülkenberg's shoulder, he felt some genuine sympathy, even though the kid was still very young, "Nico isn't missing, he's run away, Ralph. Children don't just run away from their parents no matter how well-off they are. He's hurt and scared," the runaway boy's feelings couldn't be described more accurately. He's a bird of prey that's been released from its golden bonds, that's trying to find its way, and they're trying to put him back in the cage again, "I'll talk to his father and find out for myself what's wrong, but he's sleeping here tonight. And he'll be here as long as he needs to be."

"Better not go overboard with money people Schumi. If you don't give them their offspring, they might take your kids away from you too," and then Nico got goosebumps running down his spine in fear. Was his father really capable of such a thing? Capable of taking another man's children away, just because someone was kind to him and cared about his problems. The boy next to him seemed horrified as well. Hulk let go of the younger Schumacher's hand for a second just to hug him tightly, he wouldn't let that happen, 'you and Carina are going through a difficult time in your relationship. Think about your family, not the lefty rich selfish boy.

"And who caused my relationship to escalate, do you recall? " Michael suddenly erupted, but immediately lowered his tone, as if he was afraid he'd wake the boys on the first floor. He hadn't even realized that they were already awake "no one dares take my children away from me. Got it! I would give my life for my family," the man hissed. Nico really believed that Michael wouldn't give his father away so easily, that he wouldn't give his own away, but on the other hand, he realised that his father wouldn't give up that easily either, that he was capable of many things, including breaking up the Schumacher family.

"So keep it in your mind?" The conversation between the two brothers ended. There was a slamming of the door. Mick recoiled from Nico. There were tears on his face, but he didn't say a word, as he had for the entire evening. He just nodded, which in his mute language meant goodnight.

Nico was torn with thoughts. He didn't know what to do. He had to make a choice. Hide behind someone else's back, putting strangers in danger or accept his fate, whatever it was. Nico got up from the step and went to his temporary shelter. He sat down on the bed. HE still wanted to get some sleep, but decided that early in the morning, he would leave this flat. He didn't want to get these people in trouble.

It was five o'clock in the morning when the boy began to pack. Backpack. A turtleneck. Trousers. Some money, as a 'thank you for the night's' lodging on the bedside table. He started to descend slowly, but the steps creaked treacherously under his feet. When he came down he saw Michael sitting at the table, who had not slept. There was an empty bottle in front of him and his arms were folded across his chest. He looked very serious.

"'Where are you going? " The man asked calmly, and then it was as if it had struck him and he looked up at the ceiling, "Of course... You heard my conversation with my brother. I do not want to give you up, really Nicholas, but the situation is extremely complicated," Hulkenberg grimaced when he heard his full name and Michael put one hand behind his head to scratch the back of his head, it seems he had not slept all night thinking about this question, the man looked extremely tired.

"You don't have to," Nicholas smiled weakly, "I'm going home to take full responsibility for what happened," he spoke like an adult, it surprised Schumacher, he noted to himself that it was respectable, "I don't want you to get in trouble because of me. I'm sorry for the way things have turned out. You are a good man and you have a wonderful family," the men grinned. Every wonderful family has its skeletons in the wardrobe.

"Don't apologise. I really wanted to help you. I'm sorry, Nico," He sounded sincere. It was enough for Hulk that someone wanted to help him, that someone understood that he was all right, that they were willing to stand up for him and that they saw him as a person, not just a rich kid with caprice. "Fight for your dreams," the man suddenly added. On that note, everything crumbled inside Nico.  
"I'll try very hard, but I'm afraid this is the end..."

  
The door closed behind Nico...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was the end after of his fighting. Or the beginning?
> 
> Yeah... So apparently my lyrics sound better in my language i really tryied to make it sound good but meeeeh
> 
> About Mick and Nico. 
> 
> Nico knew Mick before he too came to the institution. They didn't really have much of an age difference. It was just that Mick wasn't the most talkative kid. Also. It's a small world. Then they didn't communicate much, because Schumacher Jr. thinks it went downhill in their family when Hülkenberg showed up on their doorstep. By the way, the two of them are hiding that fact.
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback are appreciated :)  
> You can contact me tmblr: alicehappykli

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, i was literally writing this in tears. Hope you enjoyed even though it's pretty sad.
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback are appreciated :)  
> You can contact me on Twitter: Alice_Happy_Kli and tmblr: alicehappykli


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